


Don't Be Cocky

by Spindiver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cock Piercing, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Fantasy Sex, Hairy Derek Hale, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Missed Connections, Mutual Pining, Nipples, Park Ranger Derek Hale, Pierced Stiles Stilinski, Piercings, Size Difference, Size Kink, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Tattooist Stiles, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spindiver/pseuds/Spindiver
Summary: For reasons, Derek wants to get a Prince Albert piercing. The only shop in town belongs to Stiles Stilinski. Who knew that Derek's life of lonely isolation was about to get a proper shake-up?“Hey”, he says, in greeting, “what can I help you with, this morning?”Given the man’s size and somewhat surly demeanour, Stiles is not expecting the voice of the giant to be so measured and polite.“My name’s Derek Hale, I have an appointment booked for 11 o’clock.”“Right”, says Stiles, coming out from behind the counter, he gestures towards his workspace, one of three rooms off the lobby of the shop.“Come on through, my name’s Stiles, I run this place. I have to confess, the appointment book didn’t say what you were after.” He raises an eyebrow at the man, now sitting gingerly on the padded worktable in the middle of the room. He’s starting to look ever so slightly uncomfortable.“Oh, I um…I’m looking to get a Prince Albert”, he mumbles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading a number of piercing fics and I realised that it's always Stiles that has the Prince Albert. So I thought, why not give Derek one?

It’s not the kind of place Derek thought he’d ever need to visit, never mind requiring their services.

Nevertheless, here he is, standing outside Stilinski’s Inks, his appointment in five minutes time.

He peruses the shop front for a moment, the name of the establishment painted in olde worlde script in a large semi-circle at the top of each of the display windows. Underneath, in a smaller font, it says…And Body Modification Centre. He takes a deep breath and walks in.

Derek’s researched this, he wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t. He is highly methodical in his way of life. Circumstances have found him, at thirty-two years old, to be better off with minimal human interaction, so he spends most of his time alone, at work in the forest surrounding the little town he is now visiting.

********************

Stiles unlocks the door of his shop ten minutes before opening. He casts his eye over the place looking for anything that’s not where it ought to be, but it seems that Scott and Isaac cleaned up properly the previous evening. They’re not due in now until after lunch. He moves a solitary coffee mug to the kitchen and goes to check the appointment book for today.

There’s a D. Hale booked for him this morning, he didn’t take the booking so he has no idea what D. Hale is booked for, there is just a note saying, consultation first. The only clue being that the appointment is booked out for two hours. Could be anything really.

A movement outside catches his eye. There’s a man stood there looking at his shopfront. Man is a bit of an understatement, mountain would be more accurate, the guy’s got to be six foot seven if he’s an inch! Clad in a snug pair of jeans and a dark grey long-sleeved shirt, the rest of the man’s body is in proportion to his height – large. Stiles wonders if he’s the enigmatic D. Hale. He doesn’t need to ponder too long; the man takes a step towards his shop and seconds later the old-fashioned bell above the door is tinkling.

“Hey”, he says, in greeting, “what can I help you with, this morning?”

Given the man’s size and somewhat surly demeanour, Stiles is not expecting the voice of the giant to be so measured and polite.

“My name’s Derek Hale, I have an appointment booked for 11 o’clock.”

“Right”, says Stiles, coming out from behind the counter, he gestures towards his workspace, one of three rooms off the lobby of the shop.

“Come on through, my name’s Stiles, I run this place. I have to confess, the appointment book didn’t say what you were after.” He raises an eyebrow at the man, now sitting gingerly on the padded worktable in the middle of the room. He’s starting to look ever so slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I um…I’m looking to get a Prince Albert”, he mumbles.

********************

Derek’s life so far, has been unfortunate. Anyone would say so. He’s continually found himself mixed up with the wrong people, with a particular emphasis on appalling choices regarding relationships. Practically all of his partners have been out and out psychos, from Kate, who turned out to be a serial arsonist to Jennifer who was secretly hatching a plan that involved sacrifices.

After Jennifer, Derek swore off relationships, they weren’t worth the trouble they caused. He can easily do without and seeking out a job that keeps him, quite literally, off the grid for weeks at a time seemed to be an obvious solution.

It’s worked, up to a point. Derek has no problem with his lack of human interaction. He adores the animals he’s tasked with monitoring in the forest. He comes in to town every so often, catches up with his family, picks up supplies and heads back in to the wilderness. It’s worked fine for at least five years. Recently though, he’s noticed a change in himself. Rather worryingly, he’s finding himself exceptionally horny a lot of the time and he’s not liking it.

For the last few years he’s thought about sex very rarely. A quick hand job every few months seemed to stem the urge and he could carry on with his life without thinking about his penis much, until recently… 

Derek’s been waking up in the middle of the night with a stiffy like a tree branch. Worse, it’s been happening when he’s been working during the day as well. He’s been tucked up in one of his hides and his treacherous dick has filled and throbbed and he’s had no option other than to wring one out.

There’s no particular lust associated with it, Derek can’t find a pattern or a trigger, he’s just getting very, very horny, sometimes at the worst possible moments and he wants it to stop. It’s like his dick is telling him that he does need to engage with people again and maybe have some sex to curb these urges. Something that he’s absolutely not ready to do.

So, he researched it, as best he could. Admittedly, there’s not much cell coverage in the forest so he’s had to drive himself to where he can pick up a signal and do what he can. Googling phrases like ‘decreasing my sexual urges’ has sent him to a variety of sites that claim that this drug or that will have the desired effect but Derek doesn’t like a chemical solution, he wasn’t even sure about some of the so-called natural remedies and then he happened upon the story of Prince Albert.

Apocryphal tales seem to indicate that the afore-mentioned Prince Consort stuck a ring through his cock for two reasons: one, aesthetic, to keep it neatly tucked away in the snug clothing of the time and the second, to decrease sexual urges so as not to bother his beloved wife, the Queen, with the wretched thing.

Derek would far rather this option than messing with his body chemistry and it’s not as if he’s particularly squeamish, so here he is, facing this curious man who could be plunging a sharp needle into his flesh within the hour. Now Derek’s not quite as confident.

********************

“A Prince Albert you say? Right….” Stiles draws out the last syllable. He’s surprised, he would’ve put good money on it being ink that was required.

Stiles loves tattooing. Stemming from a childhood obsession with art and an adolescent need to be an individual. Stiles dropped out of college in his junior year when he was offered a job by the owner of the studio he was constantly hanging out at.

He’s mostly covered in ink himself now, two full sleeves, various front and back pieces which are gradually being brought into a whole and an incredible tribal work that runs from his hip to his ankle down his right leg. Nothing above his neck or below the wrists though, he’s saved his face for the metalwork.

While Stiles was apprenticing, he also learnt body piercing. It’s a lot easier to practice this on yourself than tattooing so there’s around thirty piercings on his head. Admittedly, the majority are in his ears but there’s a row of three barbells through his left eyebrow, twin nose studs and a septum ring, his tongue is pierced along with a small fine gauge lip ring. He’s shaved the right side of his messy chestnut hair to better show off the multitude of piercings decorating that ear.

Curiously, the only piercing Stiles has below the neck is a nipple ring in his right nipple. He’s never really fancied messing with his genitalia. He has no problems with anyone else’s though.

Like this guy… Stiles’ brain has to do a quick flip from thinking about ink to thinking about needles. Being Bi, Stiles thinks all genitalia is beautiful but push him and he’ll admit to a fondness for a nicely pierced cock. Seems like today might be a good day.

“Do you know exactly what you’re asking for?” He quizzes. He’s a little itching to get his hands on this unusual client but he is a consummate professional and he will not tattoo or pierce unless he’s one hundred per cent convinced the client understands what he’s doing and it’s what they want.

The man looks curiously at him, “Of course, I want you to put a ring in my dick.” He says it as if it’s a sentence you say all the time. Stiles studies him before he replies.

“Okay, you’d be surprised what people walk in here asking for without realising what it is, you seem sure though.”

“I am sure, I’ve researched it.”

Stiles can spot a nervous nelly from a hundred yards; this guy is showing no signs. He’s meeting Stiles’ eyes. Albeit a little reluctantly but his tone is certain. He doesn’t strike Stiles as a dilletante. Stiles carries on with the part of the consultation he can do in his sleep: positioning, type and size of piercing etc. etc. all the while studying this hulk of a man who had to duck his head to fit through both of Stiles’ doors.

He’s not typical of Stiles’ clientele, who are generally a little younger and tend to come in pairs, if not groups. Thank goodness for the local college keeping him in business with their yearly turnover of new customers. This guy doesn’t look familiar, so he obviously doesn’t live in town but he exudes a sense of confidence and authority so he’s not a complete stranger. He’s clean and tidy but there’s ingrained dirt in the callouses of his hands, the sort you can never quite get rid of, no matter how hard you try. Stiles reckons he works outdoors most of his time. That probably explains the slightly overlong ebony dark beard and hair, the ends of which are curling rather attractively against the collar of the man’s shirt.

Stiles tries to mentally guide himself away from any thoughts of whether his client is attractive or not – he is - Stiles is not small himself, a smidge under six foot but he is quite lean and one of his go-to types is a bear. He doesn’t consider himself a twink but he kinda wishes he was because the thought of being enveloped in the arms of someone so much bigger than him, muscly and hairy really gets his juices flowing, in a metaphorical sense.

The consultation done, Stiles starts preparing his equipment, gathering the tools he needs from their homes in his workspace. Finally, “Can you take your pants and underwear off and get comfy on the table… “

********************

Derek is so far relieved that he’s not been quizzed too much about his motivation for being here. He would have flannelled something about aesthetics, had he needed to, cited a long-held appreciation for pierced dongs. That hasn’t been necessary, the piercer, Stiles, while ensuring that Derek knows what he’s doing and has thought it all through, has been super professional; friendly but not effusive, drawing just the right amount of information out of Derek. 

Which has allowed Derek the time to take in the appearance of the man in front of him. Stiles is wearing old basketball shorts and a graphic tee with cut off sleeves. Derek can see hints of the designs peeking above the slack neckline of the tee and the colourful sleeves on display. When Stiles turns to reach something and he catches a glimpse of the long tribal piece running down his leg, Derek’s mind supplies how far up under the shorts it must go and he gets cross with himself for letting his thoughts go places they really oughtn’t.

The man’s wiry but powerful, with broad shoulders. He’s smaller than Derek but then, everyone’s smaller than Derek. What really makes him stand out is the facial decoration. Without it, Derek concedes he would be quite cute with his tip-tilted nose and smiling eyes but with it he’s edgy and unusual.

So now Derek’s standing in front of this guy, preparing to get his knob out. There’s no small amount of irony in the fact that he’s the first person who has drawn any kind of interest from Derek in ages and also the person who Derek has chosen to help him reduce that interest further. 

Derek undoes his jeans and slides his hands into the waistband of boxers, he pushes everything down, so it all gathers at his feet and he steps out of the clothing, shaking his left foot a little where his jeans have caught. Stiles has his back to him, so he quickly hops up on the worktable. He wriggles up the table to get himself flush against the raised back and he glances down to his cock sitting there innocently in his lap.

Stiles turns around, latex gloved and tools in hand. “Okay then, let’s see what we’ve got to work with here.” He doesn’t exactly double take but there is an infinitesimal pause before he carries on. “May I?” He gestures towards Derek’s lap. Derek nods in affirmation and Stiles picks up his penis.

“So, you’ve opted for a standard positioning underneath with a barbell rather than a ring, we’ll use a medium gauge, but you can always increase the gauge after the piercing heals, if you want.”

He handles Derek’s dick like a pro, which, of course he is. He’s gentle as he examines the head working out exactly where the barbell’s going to sit. He squeezes carefully, shifting the foreskin to take a good look at the slit where the barbell will protrude.

Despite thinking about dead things, Derek can’t help from chubbing up a little. It’s been simply years since anyone other than himself has touched it and Derek doesn’t know whether it’s because his dick is interested in this man in particular or just the sensation of being touched after so long that did it. He flushes a little because it’s a little embarrassing, Okay?

“Hey, don ‘t sweat it, it’s a natural reaction.” Stiles brushes off his shame and he feels less bad but the boner isn’t going down. “Don’t worry”, encourages Stiles, “I haven’t seen a cock that stays hard when there’s a needle involved.” Derek isn’t certain whether that’s the reassurance he needs at this point but he’s too far down the road now.

Stiles cleans him down with an antiseptic wipe. “We’ll put it here”, and Stiles marks a dot with a marker on the underside just below the head. “Christ, I’m going to need a longer barbell.” He mumbles this more to himself than to Derek and gets up to have a root around in a set of trays the other side of the room.

*******************

Stiles is grateful for a moment of reflection. For him the atmosphere is quite intense. It’s only his experience that’s allowed him to come across so competently. That’s got to be the biggest cock he’s ever seen. It was six inches before he even laid a finger on it. Now, with his unwitting encouragement, it’s grown to eight and he’s fairly sure it’s not even halfway to its full potential. And the head? It’s absolutely enormous, a great bulbous mushroom sitting proudly atop the shaft. Stiles is pretty sure that Derek doesn’t even realise what he’s packing in his pants.

His mouth waters slightly, this cock is going to look so good when he’s done his thing. Momentarily, Stiles isn’t quite sure which thing that’s going to be. Taking a couple of calming breaths while he’s rummaging, he eventually finds a curved stainless-steel bar that appears to be the longest he possesses tucked in the back of his storage trays.

Smiling, he turns back towards Derek brandishing his prize. “I think this should do.” Before he takes it out of its packaging, he measures it against the head of Derek’s cock. “Perfect”, he enthuses, let’s get going then.”

********************

Derek’s seen a lot of things in his life, some have been quite awful, and he has no desire to add having a needle stuck through his junk to the list. He resolves to take himself to his happy place while the procedure is undertaken.

Usually, his happy place is memories of his childhood, out playing with his siblings; games of chase and hide and seek, the sound of children shrieking in excitement and joy.

Because of the handling of his cock, Derek’s finding it hard going getting himself there. Stiles has applied some topical anaesthetic so the sensation is somewhat diminished but his wicked subconscious can’t help but conjure up thoughts of how else those long supple fingers could caress and stroke him.

Derek has his head turned away from the action and his eyes are closed. Behind his eyelids he imagines Stiles bending down and taking his cock into his mouth. He’s spotted Stiles’ tongue piercing and he tries to conceive of what that might feel like running along the underside of his cockhead. 

It’s all getting a bit much and Derek’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth in an attempt to get his thoughts away from dirty places. His eyes flick open for a second and he catches a glimpse again of the tribal work on Stiles’ leg. 

His eyes shut again, he now has visions of those thick black lines swirling around each other and intersecting with mathematical precision. They twist up his leg, which in Derek’s imagination is now unclothed, as is the rest of him. Derek sees himself following the lines to their destination with his mouth. He can only guess how far they travel but in Derek’s mind, they terminate on his hip bone which Derek wants to suck on. Maybe after that, he’ll kiss up Stiles’ body, finding out what designs the man has etched on his torso. He’ll bite at his nipples until they peak. He’s fairly confident at least one of them will be pierced and he craves to know how that will feel in his mouth.

After teasing his nipples, Derek will kiss his way up to that untouched and vulnerable skin of Stiles’ neck. Perhaps he will mark Stiles there in his own way. Then he’ll move up, take Stiles head in his hands, run his fingers through the rumpled bed-head and slowly descend towards his mouth which will be warm and welcoming, and his lip ring will scrape against Derek’s beard and… 

“There we go, all done!”

Stiles sits back on his stool, a pleased expression on his face.

“I think that’s worked out really well. You can definitely go up in gauge size if you want to put a ring through it in the future. For now, though, cleanliness is king. You want to saltwater wash it twice a day in the first week, cutting back to once after that. You may get some bleed but as long as it’s only spots and as long as there’s no infection or pain, you’re good to go. So, what do you think?”

Derek breaks from his internal fantasy and stares down at his cock. It’s lying limp slightly over on his right leg. He can see the shiny steel ball capping the upper end of the bar. It’s poking out of his slit, proud of his foreskin and larger than he expected. He leans forward and lifts his cock up. Just slightly off-centre below the head is the other matching ball. Derek feels a little like he’s looking at someone else’s junk.

It’s quite eye-catching and he manoeuvres his dick around to get a good look at it.

“Here”, Stiles holds a mirror behind it, angling up to Derek’s face. Derek holds his dick loosely in his fist, the top inch of shaft protruding above his hand. With the mirror he can see the piercing properly, it’s slightly red at source but he guesses that’s to be expected. He’s really no connoisseur of this kind of thing but he can’t see anything wrong with it at all; Stiles has done an excellent job.

He nods his head in recognition. “Yeah”, he says, “I like it, thanks.”

“Pleasure to oblige you”, replies Stiles. He’s stripping off the gloves now and tidying up the tray with tools on. He gets up and drops a small bag into the industrial waste bin by the sink.

“Any pain?” Stiles enquires. Derek’s still examining his new adornment. Reluctantly, he lets it go and reaches for his jeans and boxers.

“No, a little discomfort maybe but no pain.” Derek stands up to dress himself.

“Good, if anything changes, come back and see me immediately.”

Derek ponders returning for any reason at all, not least of all to ask Stiles out for a coffee or a beer but then he remembers that he means to go back to his cabin the next morning and that this man has been as intimate with him as any of his sexual partners and he reluctantly discards that idea.

Stiles has held his cock, he’s examined it and impaled it with a stainless-steel bar, he’s been super proficient, and Derek can’t conceive of breaking the implied trust between craftsman and client by spewing his unexpected lust all over him.

“Yes, I will, for sure.”

Derek walks into the reception lobby, ducking his head under the door as he goes, he reaches for his wallet to pay for the service he’s received.

Stiles darts behind the counter to ring up the transaction.

“That’s your first piercing, I’m guessing…?” he says as he runs Derek’s card through the reader. “If you want anything else, just ring and make an appointment. I bet some nipple rings would look good on you. Or ink, we have a custom service”

Derek takes his card back from Stiles, carefully avoiding touching him. “I have a tattoo already”, he manages as his perfidious mind returns to his earlier imaginings of Stiles’ own nipples.

“Thank you, thank you very much” and he all but dashes out of the establishment.

********************

Stiles is kicking himself; he can’t believe he just let that guy walk out of his shop. He’s got no contact details, no customer records, nothing. No idea where Derek came from or where he’s going. Stiles is certain he’s not come across Derek before, he’d have remembered for sure. Someone who’s the walking personification of his ideal man would not be forgotten. Damn, damn, damn!

He’s been stood gormless behind the counter long enough that it’s surely too late to run after and catch up with him…and say what exactly? Stiles doesn’t know but he still goes to the door and looks out. As he’d guessed, Derek is nowhere in sight. Stiles sighs and goes back into the shop.

He’s been doing this job too long to be affected by his clientele. He can disassociate like a champ; he’s probably seen more genitalia than a porn star and he’s never had less than a clinical view of any of them.

Why on earth this particular cock, attached to this particular man made his work today so little like a job and so much more like a bizarre meet cute escapes him. Only that it felt so personal today, almost like foreplay, the line between business and pleasure blurred beyond recognition.

In a way he was glad that Derek had kind of zoned out during the process, it had allowed him time to study the contours of his dick and the surrounding areas. From the bushy black pubes surrounding the base of his cock to the sparser hair dusting his thighs which had tensed every so often, showing the definition of the muscles beneath. Stiles had contemplated how tight those thighs might grip. 

Above all, he’s regretting that he may never get to see his work the way it ought to be seen, embellishing a phenomenally hard, erect cock.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek is so pissed. He’s sitting in one of his hides, keeping tabs on a young wolfpack that are part of a managed reintroduction programme. It’s one of his favourite parts of the job but today he’s getting no pleasure from it.

See, apocryphal tales are just that, hearsay and rumour promoted to truth. Derek decides that the story of Prince Albert is hokum. Why does he think that? Because he’s been sporting boners pretty much non-stop since he returned to the forest.

Far from reducing his sexual urges, the piercing seems to have increased them. Worse, they have developed a focus.

All Derek can think about is Stiles the piercer. His supple hands, his lithe decorated limbs and his cute face adorned in similar metalwork to that Derek now wears. Practically every waking thought Derek now has revolves around doing something lascivious to Stiles’ body, culminating in sex. Yeah, sex, where he takes his pierced cock and sticks it anywhere in or on Stiles to get the friction on it he so desperately needs.

He’s found, from the copious amount of masturbation he’s performed since his return, that the piercing only enhances his stimulation. If he catches it just right while he’s stripping his cock, it’s the penile equivalent of prodding a finger into his prostate. Something else he’s been indulging himself in recently. 

He’s been back a week and he’s probably rubbed one out about twenty times. First thing in the morning, as soon as he wakes up. One or maybe two when he’s out and about during the day. He’s trying really hard not to leave his stank around the forest, he doesn’t want to disturb the wolves. Finally, a long indulgent one, last thing before sleep, where he can let his imagination really loose with the things he’d like to do. 

The piercing is healing beautifully. He had some discomfort for the first couple of days but that’s eased off, there’s no sign of infection and no conceivable reason for Derek to return to the shop and seek Stiles’ guidance.

He really likes it now and despite his flawed reasoning for getting it, doesn’t regret it at all. He’d be proud of it if he had the opportunity to display it in all it’s glory atop his rock-hard member. For the first time in his life, curiosity gained the upper hand and he actually measured his length, it’s a solid ten inches, root to captive bead and he’s even a little impressed himself.

Derek’s not great with people at the best of times and living two hours away from the object of his fantasies doesn’t help. In his mind, he cannot conjure up a realistic excuse to return to town and converse with Stiles in anything other than a professional situation, which leads him to contemplate whether more piercings are required. Stiles said he’d look good with his nipples pierced and Derek starts to give serious thought to it.

Or he could get another tattoo. He’s already got quite a large back piece in the shape of a triskele, which is his family symbol. He could just go in and request any bit of flash art from the books or he could ask Stiles to do something special, something that might require several sittings.

Derek is fuelled by lust and indecision.

********************

Stiles, on the other hand, is in a huge funk. Scott and Isaac are both sick of him whining about this incredible man who came in two weeks ago, got his cock pierced and disappeared into nowhere.

“He was perfect, just perfect” Stiles states dolefully for about the fifteenth time that day. He’s sitting at the counter while Scott is working on a customer in his workspace and Isaac has found some excuse to vanish into the backroom to count supplies or something.

“What was his name again?” yells Scott who is marginally more receptive to his friend’s plight than Isaac. 

“Derek…Derek Hale”, responds Stiles wistfully.

“Nope, can’t say I know the name.” There’s some mumbling that Stiles can’t catch over the buzzing of the tattoo gun. “Never heard of him”, comes a different voice.

“Why don’t you ask your Dad, he knows everyone round here”, Scott offers.

Stiles slaps his hand on the counter. “Scotty you’re a genius, I’ll pop in after work.”

“Go now”, says Isaac dryly, coming out of the back with an armful of inks. “You haven’t got any bookings until later, we’ll manage.”

“You know, I think I will”, Stiles answers and there’s a sly look on his face.

Twenty minutes later, he’s walking through the Sheriff’s department, bag full of grease in one hand and using the other to greet the various deputies he’s known since forever.

“Daddio!” He proclaims as he enters his father’s office. “I come bearing burgers.”

The Sheriff looks up with narrowed eyes filled with suspicion, but Stiles sees his nose twitch and as if he’s displaying a grand prize, he extracts one burger from the bag and presents it to his Dad.

Stiles plops himself down on one of the visitors’ chairs, spreads a bag of fries to share out on his father’s desk and takes an enormous bite of his own burger.

“Chicken”, informs Stiles, “Can’t have you eating too much red meat but there’s room for a little treat here and there.”

“What do you want?” enquires the Sheriff, wise to the methods of his offspring but enjoying the burger, nonetheless.

“Do you, by any chance, know anyone with the name Hale?” Stiles asks, far too innocently.

The Sheriff considers this, “Why, what’ve they done?”

“Nothing, nothing at all…well, nothing bad, anyway.”

“You must be thinking of Talia Hale, out in the preserve.” The Sheriff has finished his burger and is working on the fries now.

“Talia Hale, hmmmm…are there any male Hales?” Stiles is well aware that his Dad is hoovering up the fries and he’s happy to let him if he provides the information Stiles requires.

“There’s a son but I haven’t seen him around town for a long time now, can’t be who you’re after.”

Stiles is disappointed, “No, maybe not.”

“Laura Hale runs the local paper; you could try her.” The Sheriff licks the last remnants of salt and grease from his fingers.

“Thanks for coming by Stiles, don’t be a stranger.”

Stiles can tell when he’s being dismissed, and he wonders if his Dad has somehow managed to achieve the upper hand here.

********************

Three weeks in and Derek’s had enough. He’s about willing to let Stiles loose on any part of his body just for the opportunity to see him again. He’s cleared his schedule so that he can spare the time to drive in to town and back. He’s convinced he’ll get no peace until he sees him once more.

He considers stopping on a stretch of the road where he knows the cell signal reaches and phoning the shop, but he doesn’t know what he would say. What if Stiles has clients booked, he’d have to turn around, go home again, much better to take a chance.

It’s a long two hours in the car on his own. Derek muses over several possible gambits and ultimately decides to ask Stiles to give him another piercing. It’s the easiest thing to request and he’s inclined to let Stiles have dealer’s choice on where it is. Perhaps, by letting Stiles work on something he really likes, he’ll be more inclined to accept Derek’s clumsy advances.

The town is bustling but Derek spots a car leaving while he’s cruising down the road where Stiles’ shop is. He nips in swiftly and parks up. He takes a deep breath and gets out of his jeep, his heart is racing, he’s going to see Stiles again.

An awful thought dawns on him as he’s walking towards the shop, what if, God forbid, Stiles has someone already? Why wouldn’t he, a desirable man in his prime, how stupid Derek is for not thinking about this before. Derek almost turns around but he’s practically at the door.

The bell tinkles and he ducks his head to enter. There’s no-one in the lobby but he can hear voices in the back rooms. He’s scary nervous and still doesn’t really know what he’s going to say to Stiles.

A man comes out of one of the rooms, he’s got a friendly, if crooked, grin and sheaf of floppy dark hair. There’s a black tattooed band around his left bicep.

“Hey there”, he greets Derek. “How can I help you?”

This wasn’t in Derek’s playbook, he’s thrown completely.

“Oh, I was, um…looking for Stiles?”

The friendly guy looks sad, “He doesn’t work Tuesday afternoons but I’m free if you’d like to discuss a design.” He grins again.

Derek is having trouble processing; all this build up and for nothing.

“No, no, no”, he stutters, “I wanted Stiles to….” And he trails off because how can he explain what he wanted Stiles to do.

“If you want a piercing, Isaac can fit you in in about half an hour.”

“Thank you, no. I’ll come back another time.” He’s gone and the bell tinkles in his wake.

Isaac pops his head out. “Who was that?”

“Dunno”, shrugs Scott, “he was looking for Stiles. Big guy though.”

“Hey, you don’t think that was Stiles’ Prince Albert, do you? “

********************

Stiles has been waiting for his afternoon off to have an opportunity to visit the local paper’s offices. He heads over there as soon as he’s finished with the couple of clients he had booked that morning.

The office seems quite informal and Stiles ends up hesitantly tapping on a door marked Chief Editor and Publisher.

“Come In”, he hears and pushes the door open. There’s a woman sat behind the desk, copy pencil tucked into the mass of dark hair piled on her head.

She looks up at him, glasses slipping down her nose as she does. “Can I help you?”

“Laura Hale?” he questions.

“Yes”, she replies, “Who’s asking?”

“Stiles Stilinski, I own the tattoo parlour on Main.” He extends his hand.

Laura stands up to grasp it across the desk, she’s a tall woman, easily the same height as Stiles. 

“The Sheriff’s son”, she comments.

“The very same”, Stiles assures.

Laura leans back in her chair. “So, what can I do for you today, Stiles?”  
-  
Stiles drops into the seat opposite her. “Well, I’m looking for someone called Derek Hale, I’m led to believe he might be a relative of yours.”

“Derek?” She leans forward, more interested now. “What on earth do you want with him?”

Stiles has prepared for this. “He came into my studio for some work the other week and I usually do a follow-up to make sure everything’s okay, but we don’t seem to have any customer records for him. I was wondering where I might find him, to check, you know, if it’s all still good…”

As the words are falling out of his mouth, he can hear how rubbish it sounds but it’s the truth, kind of…

“Describe him for me, so I know we’re talking about the same person”, Laura asks.

“Well he’s a big guy, he must have eight inches on me, early thirties, I’d guess, black hair and beard, quiet sort of fellow.” Stiles could go on but for propriety’s sake, chooses not to.

“That’s him”, Laura agrees. “But you won’t find him anywhere around here. He’s a forest ranger, works about two hours north of Beacon Hills. He only comes into town every couple of months. You’re going to need to travel if you want to check up on your ‘work’ What was it by the way?”

“Client/Tattooist privilege, you’ll have to ask him yourself, sorry!” Stiles apologises but he’s not going to give up Derek’s secret to this woman, whoever she might be to him.

He asks, “Just how are you two related then?”

Laura chuckles and smiles fondly to herself, “He’s my baby brother!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this one is going to be a little longer than I'd originally intended. Update next weekend, probably...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was intended to be a quick one/two, the meet cute and the fucking. I had no idea it was going to be so much fun keeping these two apart.

Derek climbs into his jeep and face palms on the steering wheel. What a waste of a day, but if he heads on back now, he’ll have just enough time to go check on the wolf pack before dusk. Sighing, he starts the vehicle and heads towards the edge of town.

As he’s about to hit the freeway, the Bluetooth in his car kicks in, the screen says LaurLaur, so he answers, his sister is not one for idle chat.

“Hey Sis, S’up?”, he manages almost cheerfully.

“What have you been doing to yourself and more pertinently, why?” She enquires without preamble.

Now Derek’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I had a visit from a friend of yours.”

This does not lessen the confusion, Derek’s hard-pressed to name anyone he’d consider a friend except maybe…

“What did Jordan want?” Derek names his old high school buddy who he occasionally has a beer with when he’s in town.

“It’s not Jordan. Someone was very keen to see you, to see if you’re, um, okay, after that thing he did.”

Derek wrenches the jeep round in a tight U-turn, thankful for a lack of traffic on the road.

“I’m coming in, I’ll be about twenty minutes”, he tells her, cutting off the phone connection.

********************

Stiles walks back to his house after his visit with Laura, he’s mulling things over in his mind. In his pocket is a set of directions and a kind of map to where Derek lives. She also gave him a phone number but followed it up by telling him that nine times out of ten, Derek can’t get a signal so they usually just let him phone out when he can.

He’s trying to make up his mind over whether he’s being incredibly foolish chasing after this man. On the one hand Stiles can’t recall when someone has intrigued him more. On the other, he’s just being a creepy stalker. Or is he? He does have a professional interest, after all. But that is quite shaky ground to use to travel two hours to a place he doesn’t know to see a man he’s only met once.

Stiles can’t get his memory of Derek’s cock out of his head. Just before Derek tucked it away and left. He wants to know what it’s like when Derek’s aroused. Nuts! He wants to do the arousing, slowly strip off all of Derek’s clothing and discover the rest of his body too. Then he wants Derek to cover him, feel his heat from head to toe, caging him in. He wants to feel cherished and desired by this giant of a man, knowing that all that power and strength is being channelled into astonishing lovemaking. And he wants that dick in his ass, like yesterday!

Mind made up, he puts his key in his front door and once inside, quickly gathers a few things together. There’s his aftercare kit, he keeps one at home just in case. He grabs a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and quickly makes up a sandwich to go. In ten minutes’ time, he’s back outside, getting his jeep out of the garage. It’s considerably different from Derek’s, being twenty years older and light blue in colour. After a quick glance at an online map and comparison to his roughly drawn guide, he’s on his way.

*******************

Derek makes it back into town in fifteen minutes. He’s nearly clipped by a baby blue jeep taking a bend a little too wide and fast. He’d curse the driver, but his mind is a refrain of ‘Stiles wants to see me, Stiles wants to see me’.

He all but runs into his sister’s office. With the length of his legs, his walking stride’s as good as running anyway.

“Well, well, little Der-bear, this is a surprise.” Laura looks slightly smug. Sometimes Derek hates his sister, she never lets him forget that she is older than him.

“I was in town”, he grunts at her, throwing himself into a chair. It creaks ominously under the stress.

“And so soon after the last visit.” Laura leans forward, a crafty smile on her face. “What was that for exactly, another tattoo?”

Derek has no wish to discuss his struggles with his libido with his sister even though he knows she would love that immensely. “No.” He changes the direction of the conversation, “What did Stiles want?”

Laura leans back and her smile widens. “Ah”, she says “Stiles” and she drags out his name. “He’s very cute, isn’t he and quite interested in you and your wellbeing.”

“I’m sure it’s just a professional interest”, Derek counters.

“Professional interest doesn’t usually extend to tracking down a client’s sister and asking after them. He’s single you know”, she says, apropos of nothing.

“I don’t know”, Derek says shortly but inside he relaxes in relief.

“Like you”, adds Laura. “Both of you…single.” She nods knowingly.

Derek’s resolve crumbles. Years and years of sibling interaction means that Derek is powerless against his sister when she wants something.

“I like him Laur, I don’t know why. I only met him the once, but I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Derek slumps down in a seat that will never be able to hide him from the rest of the world. Finally, Laura smiles sympathetically at her brother.

“He likes you too, I’m sure of it.”

“I came into town today to see him, but he wasn’t there.”

“That’s because he was here, looking for you. Look, I didn’t get his number, but he has a house on Walnut Grove, the little one with the blue shutters. Maybe try there?”

Derek sighs, “If I don’t get on the road soon, it’s going to be pretty dark getting back.”

Laura slaps her hands down on her desk in exasperation. “Then stay here tonight, the forest can manage without you for one day.”

Derek looks up at her “Do you think…?”

“Yes”, reassures Laura, “Go and find your boy, make it all good and let me know how it goes, I’m invested now.”

For maybe the third time that day, Derek’s mood has done a one eighty. Now he’s hopeful again. The conversation with his sister has given him confidence that he’s not imagining a mutual attraction between himself and Stiles.

He pulls up outside the house that his sister described, it suits Stiles, he thinks. There’s no car in the driveway but there is a garage so one could be in there. 

Derek gets out and goes to knock on the door. He’s charmed by the little house and imagines that he’ll have to duck his head every time he enters it. In his mind, he’s already spending time here with Stiles.

He raps on the door three times quickly. Loud enough to catch someone’s attention, but not too loud that it worries them, and he waits…

…and waits…

Derek knocks again but the sound is hollow, already he knows that there’s nobody home. His heart sinks but then he considers that Stiles could be doing any number of things on his afternoon off. Grocery shopping for instance or a myriad of household chores, getting something fixed, visiting friends. Perhaps he’ll be home in little while.

It’s too much for Derek to resist peeking in through the windows, he can’t see a lot, but it looks like a cosy home with art on the walls and lots of bookcases. The sort of home Derek imagines he’ll have one day. Not wanting to attract attention, Derek goes back to sit in his jeep to wait for Stiles.

As dusk fades into proper nightfall, Derek picks up his phone and calls his sister. She’s been remarkably restrained in not texting him while he’s been sat outside Stiles’ house, so he owes her a call at the very least.

“Well?” she demands as soon as she answers.

“He didn’t come home, Laur, I’ve not seen him.” Derek can’t help the waver in his voice.

“Oh, baby bruv, I’m so sorry,” Laura sounds about as dejected as he feels.

“It’s too late to drive back now, can I stop at yours tonight?” he asks.

“Of course you can, come on over, I’ve got Chinese.”

Derek hangs up and casts a final glance over to Stiles’ house, now shadowed and dark. What he hasn’t noticed, as he’s been talking to Laura, is the car that’s pulled up behind him.

Just as he’s putting the key in the ignition, his back window lights up with flashes of red and blue. Belatedly, he realises there’s a police cruiser behind him. Oh well, better get this over with.

The man who walks over to his car is middle aged and weathered but still looks like he’d take no nonsense from anyone. He’s also wearing a Sheriff’s badge.

“Licence and registration please”, requests the sheriff. Derek wordlessly hands them across. The sheriff casts a torch over them inspecting the documentation. He makes a surprised sound and shines the torch on Derek’s face. Derek shields his eyes.

“Derek Hale?” Questions the sheriff.

“Yes sir”, responds Derek, blinking.

“We had a report of a man in a car sitting outside for a number of hours, care to tell me what you’re doing here?”

“I…I was…Stiles…” Derek is tongue-tied, how can he explain this to law enforcement.

The sheriff hands back his documents and then bizarrely extends his hand to shake Derek’s

Derek grasps it and shakes while hearing, “I’m Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles’ father. I think I know what you’re doing here, son, but if Stiles isn’t home, I don’t know where he is. Maybe you should try again tomorrow.”

He lets go. “I will.”

“Well, best of luck to you, son and it’s probably not a clever idea to go sitting outside someone’s house for hours on end. The neighbours are fairly observant round here.”

Derek nods in agreement and drives off to his sister’s place.

********************

The first hour of Stiles’ trip is just great. He’s got some tunes on and he’s singing along to himself. As he gets further away from home and the landscape starts to change, get a little more woody, apprehension creeps in.

For fuck’s sake, what is he doing, driving two hours into the wilderness to see who? A man he barely knows. God knows what sort of welcome he’ll get. ‘Hello’, he’ll say, ‘Remember me? I’ve come to check on how the piercing is healing. Drop your pants, let’s have a look at it.’

“Ahhhhh”, Stiles screams in frustration, as if it would go like that.

He’s off the main roads now, on a smaller track, he’s no idea if he’s even in the right place. He stops to look at the directions he’s been given. ‘Look out for a really large old tree in a clearing on the right. Take the next track after it.’ The directions are really vague, all trees look like old trees to Stiles. When he sees it though, he knows it’s the right one, he even stops the jeep to look at it a moment. It looks centuries older than anything else surrounding it. There are no other trees within twenty feet of it, almost as if they know to give it the reverence it deserves.

Stiles creeps along slowly, looking for the track he’s supposed to take, five minutes later, he sees it, a gap in the foliage, and he swings his jeep onto the rough track. Five more minutes of stony ground and the track breaks into a small clearing. There’s a cabin and a smaller outhouse and Stiles can see a stream running in a slight valley behind the cabin. What there isn’t, is any sign of life.

Stiles gets out and looks around. It’s very quiet, the murmuring of the leaves and some bird noises, the only sounds. Before he tries the door, Stiles cups his hands round his face and peers in the window. The cabin is basic but obviously lived in, just one room. To Stiles immense relief, the bed, tucked away on the far wall, is enormous. He must be in the right place, but where’s Derek?

Stiles checks his watch, it’s a little after 5 pm, Derek’s probably somewhere off in the forest, foresting or whatever he does. It’s really pleasant in the little clearing, with the sun just starting to descend below the treeline so Stiles slides down against the front door to await Derek.

Three hours later and he’s cold, tired and hungry. He’d underestimated how chilly it gets in the forest at night and he hadn’t brought more than a hoody with him. Derek hasn’t returned and Stiles is getting quite scared, out here all alone. There’s no way he can drive back tonight, not through the forest in the dark. He’s been leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees but as the realisation dawns that he’s stuck here until morning, he slams back against the door, in anger at himself for being so stupid.

To his surprise, the door gives way behind him and he falls into the cabin. Well, surely Derek wouldn’t begrudge him shelter. Derek might be just fine prowling the woods at night but Stiles sure isn’t.

He scrambles up and shuts the door behind him. Using his phone as a torch he locates a couple of lanterns on a small table by the door. Fortunately, there are matches there as well. Stiles looks around and sees two hooks hanging from the ceiling, they’re quite high and he can’t reach them, but he finds a stool and eventually manages to hook the lanterns up.

They cast a warm glow over the cabin. There’s some wood in a fireplace but Stiles doesn’t think he’s up for making a fire. His stomach rumbles, he’d eaten the sandwich hours ago, whilst still on the road. There’s what looks like a kitchen area to the side, so he goes to investigate.

In a cupboard he finds some bread and a jar of what appears to be plum preserve. There are knives in drawer underneath the cupboard so he slathers the jam onto slices of bread and stuffs it into his mouth as quickly as he can. He doesn’t take too much, just enough to sate his hunger.

He hears a noise outside the cabin and immediately figures it’s the return of Derek, but no-one comes in the door. Stiles creeps to the window and tries to see out without being seen.

There’s a shadowy movement in the clearing, Stiles can’t see what it is but it’s definitely not a person. The shadow moves again, closer to the cabin and the moon casts its light over a dark wolf. Stiles shits himself but the wolf just stands there for a moment, muzzle in the air, sniffing, then it turns away and slips back into the trees.

Stiles’ heartrate begins to slow again, and he checks that the latch on the door is secure. Wolves can’t open doors, at the very least.

Stiles turns and looks round the cabin again, but this is someone’s home and he doesn’t want to pry, after all, he shouldn’t really be here. He goes and sits on the large bed. It’s very comfy with a huge squashy comforter.

He kicks off his shoes and lays down. He wouldn’t get into a stranger’s bed but thinks he can be forgiven for laying on it. It smells a little musky and outdoorsy and Stiles realises that that’s the scent of Derek, his true smell. Stiles likes it and rubs his face into the comforter a little.

Having the smell of Derek in his head makes him wonder what it would be like if Derek was in the bed as well as him. Would he be a cuddler? Would he wrap Stiles up in his huge arms and keep him snug all night? Would Stiles wake up to find Derek’s hard cock pressed up against his ass, silently signalling his desire? Stiles falls asleep imagining all of this.

The next thing he knows is that some unidentified sound wakes him suddenly and he’s not alone in the cabin anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments. They warm my little heart.
> 
> Let's see if I can manage to conclude this little tale next week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one story that doesn't want to end. I've never had one that's gone so far away from my original intentions.

Derek keeps nature’s hours, so when the sun starts to peak through the curtains of Laura’s spare bedroom, he wakes up just like he normally would. The first thing that pops into his mind is his fruitless search for Stiles yesterday. Amazingly, this appears to be the first time in three weeks that Derek woke up without a boner. He feels dejected and sad. Last night, whilst forcing him to eat bland, flavourless noodles, Laura had encouraged him to go back today. Derek decides that his limp state and lack of success yesterday is a sign, a sign that he should forget this mad impulsiveness and just get back to his normal life.

He bangs his head against the pillow in frustration but lets habit guide his actions and gets up out of bed. After the quickest and quietest of showers, he leaves a note for Laura, thanking her and sets off back to his world of lonely isolation.

As he drives through the town, there’s barely a sign of life, Derek’s always up with the birds, whilst most humans are still in dreamland. He hits the freeway going north and is halfway to convincing himself that this is exactly how it should be. The further he gets from town, the more the what-ifs and regrets trouble him. He’ll never know how Stiles feels, how soft his skin is, whether the inked and un-inked skin has different textures. He’ll never know if Stiles is a morning or evening person or how he takes his coffee. Derek regrets all this but tries to accept that it’s his fate.

He passes the Nemeton – he doesn’t know why the old tree is called that, just that it always has been – and swings a right onto the track leading up to his cabin. The sun is higher in the sky now and it’s probably what most people would call breakfast time. 

The cabin comes into view and he brakes sharply, there’s another jeep parked outside his cabin. He doesn’t recognise it, but it does give him an odd sense of deja-vu. He leaves his jeep where it is, it’s blocking the track and that’s deliberate. The light blue jeep is unoccupied, and Derek can’t see anyone in the clearing. He can hear the birds’ morning chorus so there’s nothing disturbing them in the vicinity. Slowly he moves forward to his cabin. Derek unhitches the latch quietly and steps inside.

At first nothing seems untoward but then he notices some crumbs and a knife on the table and the lanterns, long burnt out hanging from the rafters. There’s the smallest of small noises and Derek spins towards his bed. Those aren’t just rumpled bedcovers, there’s a figure there, it’s a man, its…its…Stiles!

Derek is confused, he spent all of yesterday searching for this man and he was here all the time? He doesn’t understand why Stiles would appear at his cabin but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to take him all in. Derek’s nose is quite sensitive, nothing like a wolf’s, obviously, but enough to detect a hint of something softer amongst his usual woodsy aroma. Stiles is splayed out on top of the bed, lying on his stomach, he’s facing into the room and he’s clutching one of Derek’s pillows.

While Derek is admiring the lines of Stiles’ body, he fails to notice that Stiles has woken up. Derek draws his eyes up Stiles’ torso, wishing he could see more skin until he meets a pair of enormous warm brown eyes.

********************

“Oh My God, man, where have you been?” Stiles scrambles to sit up. “Dude, how do you live out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Derek is just staring at him with a curious mix of surprise and embarrassment. He doesn’t look like he’s going to be talking any time soon and Stiles is happy to fill that gap. He swings his legs down so that he’s just sitting on the bed and says...

“I’m all for rustic living and this place seems pretty cosy but how do you manage in winter, do you get snowed in for weeks? Oh, do you hunt your own food? Do you go for days and days without sight of another person? Do you talk to yourself? I would. I did, in fact, most of last night, it’s so quiet, how do….”

“Stiles, stop!” Derek’s voice is sharp, and it halts Stiles in his tracks. Suddenly it’s very quiet again.

Derek says in a softer voice, “What are you doing here, Stiles?” and really, what is he doing here? Sitting on this man’s bed, in his cabin, miles away from anything. He could say that it’s Derek’s free wellbeing check, but he opts for honesty.

“I just wanted to see you. You left my shop so quickly and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I just, I wanted to see you again.” Stiles drops his head, he’s burnt his bridges now and the longer the silence continues, the further down his neck his embarrassed flush goes. He feels, rather than sees, Derek sit down next to him.

“I wanted to see you too”, Derek mumbles, “I spent all of yesterday looking for you.”

“You did?” Stiles turns to face him, Derek’s not quite meeting his eyes yet. “Me too, I met your sister.”

There’s a twist of a smile at the corner of Derek’s mouth and he finally turns square on to Stiles. “I met your Dad.”

Stiles can’t help but gasp. “Where were you?” He can’t imagine how Derek could have crossed paths with his father.

Derek’s eyes flick away from Stiles’ face and he looks slightly awkward. “I was outside of your house. Someone called the Sheriff’s Department.”

Stiles sniggers, “We’ve been really stupid, haven’t we?” He slowly wriggles the fingers of his left hand over the comforter in reach of Derek’s splayed out paw. They touch. Moments later Stiles’ fingers are entwined with Derek’s and he’s feeling just how much bigger Derek’s hand is than his.

“We’ve certainly not been very smart”, Derek concedes.

Stiles reaches across with his other hand and cups Derek’s face. Finally, he has an answer to one of his questions: how soft is Derek’s beard? Answer: Very. And it’s thick and lush too. The tips of Stiles fingers scrape against his cheekbones, just above where the beard thins out. He leans in closer to Derek and whispers, “I like you Derek Hale, I drove two hours into a wilderness to find you and spent a terrifying night surrounded by wolves. Do you like me too?”

Derek swings his huge arm up and over Stiles’ shoulder, he threads his fingers through Stiles’ hair and Stiles is starting to swoon a little, his head being held in the cradle of Derek’s palm. Derek’s beautiful hazel-green eyes gaze at him as he says, “I just drove two hours into town to get you to pierce my nipple because I couldn’t think how else to see you. Of course I like you.” 

There’s no sense of movement but their lips touch. Stiles is amazed at the feeling. Derek’s lips are plush and soft and his beard brushes against his own clean-shaven skin. Derek uses his grip on Stiles’ head to pull him closer and Stiles sags in submission. Being manhandled is totally his jam, right? He has to move his right hand to Derek’s nape, they’re too close and he wants to know where Derek’s going to take this.

To his utter joy, Derek uses his now dominant position to deepen the kiss and Stiles feels Derek’s tongue parting his lips. Stiles allows this, letting Derek in to explore. Derek’s tongue hits his tongue stud and it darts away and then back again, probing and sweeping over it. Stiles is thrilled at Derek’s daring and moves to match him.

Eventually Stiles pulls away, a little breathless. Derek sighs his name and chases after his lips and Stiles sees that his eyes are still closed. Stiles thinks he looks ethereal with his relaxed face questing after Stiles. Suddenly he remembers something.

“Hey!” Derek jerks his eyes open in surprise. “You wanted me to piece your nipple, which one? Or both?” He adds hopefully. “Let me have a look.” And he pulls his hands away from their current locations to try and push up Derek’s shirt. Derek catches both of his wrists in one wide hand.

“It was just an excuse, to see you. You said it’d look good on me. I didn’t really want to, but I would have because you’d like it and then maybe, if I did it, you’d want to see me again...” Derek trails off, dropping Stiles hands to his lap.

“Of course a nipple piercing would look good on you, anything would look good on you. Have you seen you?” Stiles is incredulous that Derek would consider going to such lengths just to see him again but what comes out of Derek’s mouth next really takes the biscuit.

“I thought you’d be attracted more to people with your own sense of style. Not a lumbering beast like me.”

Stiles leans forward and kisses Derek tenderly. How wrong can one man be?

“I couldn’t be more attracted to you if I tried. You tick every single one of my boxes.”

They kiss again and Stiles’ hands find their way to Derek’s broad back. As they trade soft pecks to each other’s faces, Stiles charts the movement of muscle under Derek’s shirt, senses the power and strength hidden beneath his skin.

Derek drops a kiss on one of Stiles’ eyebrow rings, incredibly, he’d even managed to find an unpierced spot on Stiles’ ear to nibble on. “I like that you have all this, it makes you different. I’ve only got the one tattoo and piercing, and you can’t see either when I’m clothed.”

Stiles is on the point of asking Derek about his tattoo when he remembers the piercing and his thoughts of Derek’s cock that have kept him awake long into the night.

“How is it healing?” he asks. “I honestly would have gotten you to pop into the shop for a quick check had you been local.”

“Do you want to see it?” Derek seems eager.

“Do I want to see it?” Stiles says slowly

“Do you?”

“Fuck, do I! I’ve dreamed about it every night since.” Stiles is keen to get his most anticipated Derek question answered finally.

Derek stands up in front of him. “I think it’s been dreaming about you judging from the number of boners I’ve been enjoying.”

Stiles salivates in anticipation and Derek flicks a finger to the button of his jeans, slides the zip down and lets the denim fall to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You hate me but you would have hated me more if I'd held it up another week to finish it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the delay. I did write a bit while I was away but it's really hard to write smut when your friends don't know that you do this. Then when we get home, said friends who are in a band that I do merch for and have their own record label, have a launch gig for their new album. So that's two weekends gone, one packing the pre-orders and one on the gig itself - a brilliant success, obviously. And work's gone mental and I'm doing so many hours of overtime. 
> 
> So when I do finally boot up the laptop. Everything I wrote in Spain has vanished - never lost a doc before - which is probably just as well cos I don't think it was any good anyway (see above).
> 
> Bottom line - still not done but have some porn to tide you over. More to come.

Derek’s never been the type of person to strip naked in front of someone, he’s found that his size can be off-putting. Usually, when in company, he tries to disrobe in low lighting or when sat on the bed. Once, he even shucked his clothing completely under the bedclothes.

This is not the same. He wants Stiles to see him, all of him. He doesn’t worry if Stiles is going to think he’s too hairy or too heavy or not delicate enough, like he’s worried in other situations before, because he’s quite certain that Stiles won’t.

Slowly, Derek’s jeans try to succumb to gravity, he has to nudge them over his butt and then the left leg gets stuck on his bulky thigh, a quick shimmy has them pooling at his feet. He may live in the forest, but his hygiene standards are impeccable; he’d no more think of wearing yesterday’s underpants today as he would eating a piece of toast that had fallen butter side down.

Consequently, Stiles' already large and expressive eyes threaten to bug out of his face when he realises that Derek’s gone commando. The longer Stiles stares at his dong, the harder it gets. It’s desperately trying to point straight up but the weight of the head is making it bob a little.

“Man, that is one amazing penis!” 

There’s a tiny globule of drool threatening to escape Stiles’ plush lips and Derek realises it’s about the same size as the bubble of pre-cum that’s just oozed out of his slit and is hanging tenuously to the captive bead of his piercing. He takes his cock in hand and steps free of his jeans, closer to Stiles. 

“I knew it was going to look fantastic the minute I saw you”, Stiles says, admiring his work. “I can’t recall when I last saw a cock more deserving of a beautiful embellishment than yours.”

Stiles shakes his head slowly, “It’s a fucking work of art and I want to suck it so badly!”

Derek sniggers, “I hope you don’t”. 

Stiles looks up at him, perplexed. “You don’t want me to suck you?”

Derek takes another step and is close enough now that he can stroke his hand up and down Stiles’ bicep. “I don’t want you to do it badly, I’d rather you did it well, but frankly, I’ll take anything, just having your lips on me would be heaven.”

Stiles grins up at him, mouth wide and a second later, that mouth envelops the head of Derek’s cock.

There’s a warmth and a sense of moistness as Derek feels Stiles’ tongue wrapping itself around his cockhead. Then the piercing in Stiles’ tongue collides with his Prince Albert and he feels it deep within his shaft. His stomach flutters and he almost has to take a step to steady himself. Looking down he can see Stiles’ messy chestnut bedhead and his ear with its scaffold bar and numerous other rings and studs, and he brings the hand on Stiles’ arm up to caress the shaven undercut framing them.

Derek realises he still has his hand on his dick when Stiles pushes it away so that he can take control, gradually taking more of Derek’s cock into his mouth. Derek grasps Stiles’ shoulder now his hand is free. He needs to hold on to something, what Stiles is doing is making his knees weak. Derek realises that he rather likes ceding his control, allowing Stiles to have his way with him.

It’s all a bit heady, he’s never had a blow job like this before, given with such relish and enthusiasm. Momentarily, Stiles lifts his head to spit on his hand, all the better to slide along the reaches of Derek’s shaft that he can’t fit in his mouth. He winks at Derek and descends back to his task, laving as much of Derek’s flesh as he can. 

Every time Stiles’ tongue stud presses against him and particularly when it catches his piercing, he feels a huge jolt of desire flash through him. He barely knows where he is anymore, but he does know that if he lets Stiles carry on for another thirty seconds, he’s going to blow his load big time.

Derek grasps Stiles under the armpits and hoists him up off his cock and almost onto his tiptoes. Stiles squeaks in surprise but Derek shuts him up with a forceful kiss. He can taste his musk in Stiles’ mouth, and he loves it. 

Stiles gets with the new programme and kisses Derek back just as fiercely and then he wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and pulls them both together. Derek’s cock is now smushed up between their bodies. Stiles’ body is warm against him and it makes him remember how much he wanted to see Stiles’ body art or just his body or both. 

Derek pushes up Stiles’ shirt and runs his hands along his back. He knows there are colourful images etched underneath his fingertips but can’t see them. There’s the occasional slight ribbing that Derek tries to trace with his fingers but it’s not enough to deduce a pattern.

He breaks away, letting Stiles drop so that he’s flat footed once more, holding him in his arms.

“I want to see you”, he almost begs. Stiles face is flushed and his eyes are dilated. He looks the very definition of aroused and Derek has never wanted anyone more than he does right now. Stiles nods and Derek has his shirt off in seconds.

There’s too much to take in. Derek briefly glimpses a wreath of flowers on Stiles’ right shoulder, a female figure that appears to be flying on his left, but his eye is drawn to the huge bio-mechanical piece that covers at least half of Stiles’ chest. It’s incredible, as if Stiles’ skin truly is peeled back revealing the cyborg workings beneath. 

Derek spins round and sits down on the bed, turning Stiles so that he can gaze on the living artwork properly for the first time. He outlines some of the shapes with the tips of his fingers, teasing touches that seem to make Stiles quiver. The man is beautiful.

“You’re beautiful”, he tells Stiles and leans in and kisses him in the centre of his chest. A glint catches his eye and he realises the nipple on the other side of the bio-mechanical piece is pierced with a small ring and he can’t help but reach over and catch it between his lips.

“You’re unbelievable”, gasps Stiles as Derek sucks his nipple fully into his mouth, “In that I can hardly believe I’m here with you.” He shudders as Derek bites gently, teasing the ring with his tongue. 

Derek is captivated by every inch of Stiles and tries to show him this by mouthing down his body, laying soft kisses to the inked skin beneath his lips. When he reaches near to Stiles’ stomach, he feels the musculature flutter and he grins into Stiles’ skin at the thought of him being ticklish there.

Soon enough, Derek’s progress is impeded by Stiles’ jeans and try as he might, he can’t follow the trail of wandering ivy he’s been tracing to its unknown destination beneath Stiles’ waistband.

“This is wrong!” he declares and before Stiles can raise the obvious objection, qualifies it with, “You’ve got no shirt on and I’ve got no jeans on.”

“I’m more than happy to bring us to a level playing field”, mumbles Stiles as he reaches for the hem of Derek’s Henley. “Plus, I want to see your tattoo, where is it?”

Derek shakes his shirt off where it’s caught on his wrist and it flies across the room. Stiles, with surprising strength, pushes him down on the bed to lie naked under his gaze. 

The very sense of being intently stared at makes Derek’s still hard cock throb and twitch but for the first time, this isn’t the part of Derek’s body that Stiles is fixated on.

“Well?” asks Stiles after he’s examined the full glory of Derek’s tanned and hirsute torso. Derek rolls casually over on to his front, laying his head on his crossed arms.

“Oh”, says Stiles, “That’s big”, as the thick lines of the triskelion swirling over Derek’s back are revealed.

Stiles climbs on to the bed behind him and he feels the mattress dip as Stiles knees carefully up the bed until he can position himself astride Derek’s thighs. He must have shed his jeans while he was taking in Derek’s tattoo because all Derek can feel is the soft skin of Stiles’ inner thighs bracketing his. Oh, and the weight of his cock resting on Derek’s crack.

Every movement Stiles makes sends flurries of sensation through Derek. He closes his eyes so he can concentrate more. Now Stiles is leaning forward and his cock grazes along the cleft between Derek’s buttcheeks. Now he’s following the lines of the triskelion with his fingers. Now he’s pushing closer and tracing the tattoo with his tongue, just like Derek had to him earlier.

He’s prone on Derek’s back with his face pressed into Derek’s neck and he whispers in Derek’s ear, “I really want you to fuck me.”

Derek opens his eyes and twists round to try and catch Stiles’ mouth, but he just grazes the corner with his lips. 

Instead of kissing Stiles, he says, “So, what are you waiting for?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry! No excuses except having been super busy.
> 
> It was never forgotten and I hope this conclusion meets your expectations.
> 
> Thank you for your patience.

Stiles shimmies back down Derek’s body, skin grazing skin all the way, until he’s situated on his knees between Derek’s enormous thighs. He slaps Derek’s hairy ass cheek.

“Turn over then, or you won’t be able to watch this. Got lube?” he enquires whilst casting his eyes around.

Derek flings an arm out to the nightstand and flails around a little, feeling for the bottle. It’s nearly empty following the masturbatory marathon of the previous few weeks but there should be enough for now. When he finds it, he turns himself over on the bed with surprising grace for a man of his size. He positions himself sitting against the headboard and chucks the bottle to Stiles. 

Stiles grins as he slicks up the fingers of his right hand. It’s not a party trick, per se, but Stiles’ body type: long arms and legs but a not so long torso, allow him to snake his commensurately long fingers a good way into his ass. His flexibility in this area has been earned through much practice and he can’t wait to demonstrate this to Derek.

Shifting so that he’s laying more than sitting, Stiles kicks his legs up till they straddle, knees slightly bent, Derek’s meaty thighs.

“Hold my ankles, I kinda like being restrained.”

Derek’s eyes, large and darkened by his dilated pupils, widen further and he grips Stiles’ legs just above the ankles, at their narrowest part. He pulls Stiles towards him and the movement allows him to see, for the first time, Stiles’ little pink hole.

Derek’s aware that he’s mouth breathing and that it probably isn’t very attractive, but he’s transfixed with the thought of how on earth he’s ever going to fit his dick in there.

As if reading his mind, Stiles winks, says “Watch this”, and begins to swirl a finger against his pucker.

There’s no chance of Derek not watching every single movement and he observes as Stiles’ long middle finger effortlessly slides inside, at least up to his second knuckle. Stiles thrusts in and out slowly a few times, going progressively deeper until the full length of that finger is buried within.

The thought of how deep Stiles can probe causes Derek to grip Stiles’ ankles a little tighter, he can encircle them completely with his fingers, so he instinctively strokes his thumbs against the delicate skin covering the bone.

In response, Stiles pulls his finger all the way out and begins to press back in with two fingers, widening his channel. He’s moving slightly faster now and as his hand retracts each time, Derek can see his hole start to gape a little, getting used to the stretch. It’s still nowhere near wide enough for his cock though.

After two fingers, three and then finally, four, both Derek and Stiles are now panting shallowly, Derek is intent on Stiles’ fingers and Stiles, in turn, is watching Derek as he reacts to Stiles’ intrusions. 

On his next thrust, Stiles changes the angle of his hand and curls his fingers slightly. Derek can see the exact moment he hits his prostate, he leans in closer to Stiles, his hands sliding up Stiles’ legs, over the tribal design, he wants to be the one doing this, making Stiles hiss as his body is breached.

Derek is astute enough to have noticed every one of Stiles’ hints at submissiveness and figures that it won’t be a problem if he takes over the action. He pulls Stiles’ hand away, bringing it up to his mouth to suck on Stiles’ damp fingers. There’s a taste of musk which makes him salivate.

“Next time”, he promises, “I’m going to rim you within an inch of your life!”

“Can’t wait”, smirks Stiles in return but his smirk changes to a gasp as Derek none-too-carefully shoves two thick fingers into his glistening, gaping hole and strokes around, searching.

Stiles is leaning back on his elbows now, head flung back. His ass is resting against Derek’s hairy shins as Derek alternately thrusts and feels for that little nub of heaven buried within.

“There, right there.” Stiles twitches as his prostate is massaged thoroughly, but Derek’s mindful of getting Stiles too excited before the main event. He works a third finger inside, easily equivalent to Stiles’ four.

“Want me to try all four?” he asks. He probably should, his girth is quite substantial, and he doesn’t want to hurt Stiles. 

“God, yes!” Stiles mutters from his prone position.

With greater care than before, Derek slips the tip of his pinkie into Stiles and incrementally pushes his hand deeper and deeper until he’s all but fisting the writhing, tattooed man in his lap. 

Never, in Derek’s life, has anyone embraced the conditions that come with Derek’s size in such an enthusiastic way. “You’re amazing”, he tells Stiles.

“You are so beautiful, and you feel so good inside me”, responds Stiles. “Please can we get to the fucking before I come all over myself.”

Derek’s cock jerks at the thought of Stiles’ colourful artworks being cum-splashed and he pulls his hand away with a squelch.

“How do you want to do this, front or back?” He asks as Stiles scrambles to sit up.

“Oh back, definitely. I want to watch as you fuck me.” Stiles curls a hand into Derek’s beard pulling him closer by the chin so that they can kiss.

Derek chases Stiles’ lips as they part and Stiles moves to rearrange himself. He follows a hunch. “You like when I dominate you, don’t you?” and he grasps Stiles by the shoulders, stilling his movements.

“Fuck, yeah!” Confirms Stiles. “I never get to have this.”

“Then be quiet and do as you’re told.” Derek admonishes him with a twist of a smile.

“Oh…. oh!” gasps Stiles and falls limp in Derek’s grasp.

Derek wastes no time, laying Stiles down and crawling over until he’s caged in beneath him. He lowers himself onto Stiles, his barbell-tipped dick making contact first, laying across the Japanese Dragon emblazoned on Stiles’ belly.

Every inch of Stiles is trapped under Derek, he is covered completely, and it makes Derek feel things. Mostly protectiveness and awe that he’s able and allowed to do this. Still keeping Stiles contained by his forearms, he drops his full weight onto him whilst pressing a brief kiss to his lips. Savouring the final touch of top to toe contact for the moment, Derek reluctantly pulls away, keeping Stiles’ lower lip trapped between his own until that and his dick are the only things touching Stiles now.

He squats back on his haunches, muscled thighs making a platform to manoeuvre Stiles onto. Derek takes his time positioning Stiles so that his gleaming hole is pointing invitingly towards him. Stiles is staring at him through half lidded eyes and, as ordered, has not made a sound since Derek told him to be quiet. Derek kind of misses his noises and says, “You can make noises but don’t tell me what to do, I decide how you get fucked.”

Stiles groans and Derek feels the vibration reverberate through him.

Catching hold of his cock, Derek spreads the inevitable pre-cum leakage down his shaft and tops it up with the remains of the lube. He’s intent on fitting all ten inches inside of Stiles and needs all the help he can get.

He holds his slippery cock just below the head and slowly starts to rub the bead around Stiles’ rim, teasing him. Stiles’ hole flutters and the tip of Derek’s dick slips in. Delightful though the sensation is, Derek wants his boy begging for him before he slides his cock home, so he resumes his exploration of Stiles’ rim.

After a while of soft hypnotic swirling, punctuated by little sighs and moans from Stiles, Derek varies the routine and runs the tip of his cock up Stiles perineum, making Stiles gasp and almost call out Derek’s name.

Derek holds his cock aloft, proud and shiny between his fat fist. 

“Do you want this?”

Stiles, looking about as debauched as it’s possible to be, nods and a whispered ”Yes”, slips from his mouth followed by a whimpering, “Please”.

Derek considers that this is as good as begging, smiles slightly to himself and sits up so that from Stiles’ perspective, he’s looming over him holding his enormous cock like a bejewelled weapon. He points it at its target.

Amazingly, Derek slides a good two inches inside of Stiles without resistance. It’s hot and wet and as the Prince Albert slides against Stiles’ walls it’s agonisingly delicious. With minimum effort he slips another couple of inches in. He can no longer comfortably hold his cock and in truth he has no need to.

Stiles is arched beneath him. Mouth slack and panting. Little groans escaping him from time to time. Derek’s hand, now free, ghosts over Stiles’ skin, petting him wherever Derek can reach.

Derek begins thrusting, a slow pull back until he’s all but released and then a smooth push in, each thrust deliberate and marginally deeper than the one before. There’s more resistance now, he’s reached the part of Stiles that neither of their fingers could and his girth is stretching Stiles’ rim.

He watches as his cock constantly disappears into Stiles and then reappears, marvelling at how the man is taking it like he was born for this. The only signs of discomfort are the occasional indrawn breaths amongst Stiles’ groans.

It feels so much better than anything he’s ever felt before, held in Stiles’ warmth, the smooth slide of flesh against flesh. Derek’s not certain if it’s because it’s the first time he’s had sex since he got the piercing or if it’s all about Stiles, maybe it’s both. 

Eventually, Derek bottoms out, something he can’t recall ever having done before. He grinds against Stiles, relishing the feel of his hairy balls pressing against Stiles’ butt cheeks. Stiles is panting shallowly, lost in sensation, fisting the bedsheets into tumbles of fabric.

Derek closes his eyes and presses in as close as he can get, it’s incredible but it’s not enough, he needs more. In one fluid movement, he grasps Stiles’ legs under the knees and slips them over his shoulders. He leans forwards, almost folding Stiles in half so that he can get his mouth on Stiles again, forcefully kissing him until Stiles responds with equal determination.

It’s not a position that can be held for too long, Derek sits up and grips Stiles’ hips. It looks like he’s threading the fingers of one hand through the twisting lines of Stiles’ tribal work. He takes a moment to enjoy the display laid out before him and it is a display, each glance across Stiles’ torso reveals another previously un-noticed detail in the art. 

He feels Stiles clench around him, a reminder that his lover is on edge and eager for him.

Derek withdraws and thrusts, withdraws and thrusts, using each repetition to refine his performance so that he can gradually speed up until he is all but pistoning inside Stiles. By carefully observing Stiles’ reactions, he adjusts his positioning too, until he’s certain that the barbell’s captive bead is massaging Stiles’ gland, every single stroke.

Stiles is writhing beneath him as Derek quickens. The force from each thrust pushing little breaths out of Stiles’ mouth. Sometimes there are words too, and even though Derek told Stiles to be quiet, the sound of his name, breathy and pleading from Stiles’ lips is too good to even think of chastising him. Despite Stiles’ earlier intention to watch Derek while they fuck, he’s got his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Derek knows he’s close. In all honesty, he’s amazed he lasted this long, given that this is probably the best sex he’s ever had. He wants Stiles to come first though, he wants to feel Stiles’ orgasm before he blows his load inside the man.

He lowers his torso until he’s leaning on his arms and can murmur into Stiles’ ear.

“How near are you?”

Stiles pants out his answer, it’s all he can do considering the position Derek has him in.

“I…was…waiting…for you…to…allow…me” 

Derek’s heart melts, this incredible man has been waiting for permission to come, no wonder he looks so exhausted. With no hesitation, Derek murmurs again.

“Come for me, Stiles.”

Within two pumps of Derek’s cock, he does, arching his back and clamping around Derek, like he’s clinging to life itself.

Derek feels his balls draw up and seconds later, buried as deep as he can be, he releases, spurting his seed into the belly of his lover while Stiles clenches around him as he rides his own orgasm.

When Derek finally feels he has nothing left to give, he gently lowers Stiles’ legs and rolls to the side.

He pulls Stiles into him, wrapping his arms around his body and throwing a leg over his thigh.

“You OK?” he asks.

“Better than…” Stiles responds.

“I didn’t hurt you?” Derek is still concerned about his size and the frantic manner of their coupling.

Stiles reaches back with one hand and manages to caress Derek’s cheek. With his other hand he pulls Derek’s arms tighter around himself.

“You were perfect, everything I’ve ever fantasised about.”

Derek turns his head a little and kisses the palm of Stiles’ hand.

“But it was reality, I’m a real person, you know.” He teases Stiles a little. Stiles turns around in his arms and snuggles into his chest.

“Then I’ll have to have a few more fantasies about what your amazing cock can do!”

One Year Later

“Make sure there are plenty of vegetables for my Dad”, Stiles yells from upstairs where he is getting changed.

Derek is downstairs in the kitchen, preparing an anniversary meal to which all their friends and family are invited.

“Don’t I always?” comes the response.

They live together now in Stiles’ little house with the blue shutters. It’s not really big enough for Derek but he doesn’t mind as long is Stiles is there with him. He took a more managerial role in the Forestry Service, based closer to Beacon Hills, when it became obvious that he couldn’t continue to work two hours away from Stiles. He’s not even bothered by the increased public contact that the job entails.

Derek has a couple more tattoos now and Stiles did indeed pierce both of his nipples a month after they first got together.

For his part Stiles has been having Scott work on his previously unadorned left leg. The theme is the forest and includes images of Derek’s cabin, the Nemeton and many of the animals Derek used to look after. There’s a whole wolf pack twisting through the trees on his thigh.

Scott is a very good friend. Despite some initial reluctance… “Eww, no, there’s some things you should never ask a bro to do!” …he eventually acquiesces to Stiles’ request for him to ink a triskelion on Stiles’ ass.

Stiles says it’s so that Derek knows that Stiles is one hundred percent his. Laura doesn’t know about it…yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Now for those other unfinished works I have...


End file.
